


DEFCON: Defense Readiness Condition

by firelord65



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Badass Rescuer - Trope, Battle Couple - Trope, Cuddling, Dauntless kicks a LOT of ass, F/M, Greater than canon violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mad Max meets Divergent, Raiding parties versus Dauntless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: Situation Report: Supply run in progress. Destination, Sterling city. Hot spots of raiding activity possible. Communications limited. Ensure delivery and minimize loss of life. Prompt fill for the Eris Holiday Prompt Exchange!





	1. MILITARY READINESS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [symbioticdeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/symbioticdeath/gifts).



> A/N: My darling Symbiotic, I hope that this finds you well and that your holiday season remains bright and joyous! Now, on to the totally-happy-and-not-at-all-angsty-and-stress-filled-fic-your-prompts-demanded. 
> 
> To my readers, mind the tags. What would the holidays be without fecky writing, well, this?
> 
> Prompts given: Battle Couple & Bad-Ass Rescuer

“Why are you going?” Four’s question was laced with indignation and a brashness that didn’t suit a conversation between exes. 

Well, there was nothing new.

I started lacing my boots, crossing over and around my ankles in now-rote motions. Making him wait for his reply was a bit petty but hey what else did I have for entertainment around here? “It’s a chance to go beyond the wall? I’m branching out past my expected duties? I  _ want _ to go? Pick whichever reason you like,” I answered flatly. 

Four wedged himself into my field of view, his arms crossed stubbornly. “I’m worried about you. Is that allowed?” he shot back.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine, really.” We were on week nine or ten of the breakup. I wanted to throttle him every time he butted into my life to ‘see how I was doing.’ The decision had been mutual at the time as we wanted completely different things out of Dauntless life. 

“It’s a trade venture,” I added when Four still looked unconvinced. “I talked to Tori about it. She’s been on half of the trips that went to Sterling since she passed initiation. Never had any major problems.”

He turned his head, huffing. “Things change out there very quickly. All I know is that it’s a hell of a lot safer here behind the wall than it is out beyond it.” 

I gathered up my backpack, stuffed with fresh clothes and my personal supplies, and slung it onto my shoulders. I would be taking it off shortly once I got to my assigned truck, so I didn’t bother with the buckles and straps. “Look, Four, I don’t know what to tell you. I want to go. I’m going,” I said. 

He reached for me, going for a hug by his body language. I stepped back and held up a hand. “Don’t do that,” I ordered. “We’re not dating and I’ve told you I don’t feel comfortable when you try to hug me.”

“Tris, please,” Four whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”

I dropped my hand. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I didn’t budge, holding my breath until Four finally let go. “Come back safe,” he murmured. 

“Stop worrying about me,” I echoed once again. Maybe this time he would listen. 


	2. DOUBLE TAKE

I wasn't the only one from my initiation class going on the trek. I found a familiar face in Marlene, one of the Dauntless-born girls, who was coming along. After the fallout from the Abnegation attack she had taken a role in one of the internal city defense squads. Her end goal, she told me one night at dinner, was to work her way up into intelligence.

For now though Marlene's squad was taking lead on the supply run, spreading out between the twelve trucks that we were bringing to act as points of contact. When I got to the motorpool I immediately went to find her supervisor, Lieutenant Morgan, who was currently running the operation.

"Ah, Prior," he greeted me the moment he looked up over his clipboard. "Coulter said you had volunteered for this mission. Good to have you. You're taking initiative and that's commendable."

My smile grew as I flushed slightly. Notoriety had followed me since the trials at Candor and not always in a positive fashion. Morgan seemed to be in my camp though and I relished the opportunity to be commended for my choices rather than rebuked. "Thank you, sir. Just trying to do everything I can to pass Leadership trials," I said quickly.

After a moment I added sheepishly, "And I really wanted to get out beyond the wall." That made him laugh, the sound disappearing into the dull roar of trucks surging to life. He sent me to my assigned crew with a warning that we were leaving within the next ten or so minutes.

Fast paced and bustling, this was the part of Dauntless that I loved. Someone took my pack, strapping it into a recess in the upper segment of the roof. I got swept into the remaining loading process, hauling crates to the mammoth supply trucks. They weren't designed to hold troops, instead maximizing locked down storage crates. Once they were secure, we were sent back to our respective troop transports. I wasn't fortunate enough to get on a crew with Marlene but the caravan was sticking together such that I was certain to still see her on the road.

A holler cascaded through the motorpool as the "flagship" vehicle - Lieutenant Morgan's - tore out of the garage in a cloud of dust. Our unit was assigned towards the end of the line, keeping a ready eye on the horizon behind us. I settled in to my seat, hands gripping the bench beneath me to keep myself grounded.

Excitement bubbled in my gut. I couldn't help the grin on my face as I glimpsed Chicago's city streets racing along through the slit windows. The plate armor on the sides of the personnel carriers was effective in every regard save visibility. Then again, we could hardly rely solely on the bulletproof glass windows. Any half-decent rifle with armor piercing rounds would smash right through without a second thought.

Chitchat filtered around the truck as people introduced themselves. Everyone was a rather mixed bag of different occupations from shop clerks to weathered fence guards. More than a few had already made supply trips like this before. I felt more than a little overwhelmed by my own lack of hands-on experience so at that point I excused myself from the conversation. Staring out the rear windows - which were also heavily armored - kept me from thinking too hard about the fact that I'd really never been involved in a genuine Dauntless mission.

The stopover at the wall put a halt to my pity party. Everyone offloaded to go through identity checks. Echoes of Four's teachings from Initiation rose to mind. It was key when sending a regiment this large out to ensure that every single person who was leaving Chicago was identified. The primary concern was security - Factionless were not allowed outside of the wall and non-city natives were almost never allowed inside. Secondly, we needed a record of those who didn't come back.

One of the fence guards approached our crew, bobbing her head in greeting to those she recognized and carefully noting down everyone's names.

"Everyone set?" Eric came by, clapping his hand on the guard's shoulder. He scanned over our crew, eyes sharp as he shifted the pack on his back.

"Looks like it, sir," the guard chirped back. "Everyone accounted for. I'm just waiting on Pearson's signal."

Eric nodded to himself. "Excellent. Make sure that list gets radioed in to HQ. We're good to go. Pearson told me if you're done then we're ready to ride," he ordered. "Let's load up! We're burning daylight."

I didn't anticipate that he was coming along, too. The last that I'd heard about our fearless Leader was that he was out on an inspection of the fence guard patrols. It seemed his decision to come was as unexpected to Lieutenant Morgan as it was to me, but after a moment of awkward posturing between the men it was apparent that Eric was happy to come along without taking over the mission.

"I won't even ride up front, how about that," Eric said with a wink. "I'm trying to keep my finger on the pulse of ops like these. You don't need me pulling rank on you and confusing the chain of command." I watched from the corner of my truck, hanging out the back doors.

Morgan finally agreed and the pair shook hands. I had to scramble back inside the truck when I realized Eric was heading towards me. I had spent a decent amount of time with the blonde Leader throughout my training during and after Initiation. Still, I couldn't quite get a read on him. He'd go from hot to cold in an instant. Passionate and demanding only the best of his men, I relished the opportunity to prove myself directly. He already would have been reading the report as both a faction Leader and as my training supervisor. Now he would get to see me in action personally.

My stress level ticked up a few notches, adding to the unnecessary tension that my conversation with Four had garnered. Eric hopped inside, making a beeline to put his gear away. At least he wasn't the kind of asshole who just handed his bag to someone else to deal with.

I worried for a moment that he was going to wedge his way in between me and the Dauntless next to me but he ended up taking a spot up towards the driver instead. I let out the breath I'd been holding and settled in for the long ride.


	3. ROUND HOUSE

Chicago, naturally, is not the only city that survived the fallout of the great wars. We just happened to be one of the larger settlements in the lake region and protected by a massive wall that safeguarded us from most dangers. While we didn't have strict borders beyond that of the wall, there was a tense agreement between ourselves and the neighboring collections of people that the region within twenty miles of Chicago was not to be settled.

That, along with the general disarray of the North American continent led to the extremely slow and laborious travel time between Chicago and the western city-state of Sterling. Roads were essentially non-existent. Our trade route to Sterling was one not often travelled, leading to the majority of the way to be an exhaustive, circuitous trek over broken asphalt and around collapsed ruins of homes, businesses, and roadways. The only boon was that the lack of rain for the past few days left the ground dry and solid when we did diverge from previously established paths.

I swiftly learned the proper protocol for travelling as a unit. It wasn't nearly as simple as sitting back and waiting for us to arrive at our destination. There were rotations of keeping lookout from the side and back doors, rifles in hand. Jogging alongside the truck to sweep for sinkholes. Manning the comm lines. Once we passed beyond the invisible 20 mile boundary we lost our connection to Chicago. Attempts had been made before to raise radio towers in the undeveloped zone from what I'd heard but they either didn't survive the elements or the incorrigible Lakemen.

I swept the muzzle of my rifle side to side, eying the clouds of dust that slowly fell behind us. Soon I would be tapped out, sent to the right and then the left doorways of the carrier to watch Sigmond and Reye's sixes respectively. "Prior, swap out," a male voice grunted from behind me. "You've been on your feet all morning."

Eric held out a hand to take the rifle from me, a cocky smile dancing on his lips. I handed it over but I didn't go sit down. No way was I going to fall for that trick. "Thanks. Can I watch? Do you mind?" I asked.

He settled against the doorway, leaning against the frame of the truck with ease. You wouldn't have thought we were slamming into potholes every other minute from how he lounged. "That kind of defeats the purpose of resting, but points for dedication. Going to learn from the master?" Eric teased.

Shaking my head, I allowed myself to laugh. It was exhausting being afraid of the blond Leader all the time, especially when he was in a good mood. "Well I'll let you know if I see one," I shot back. Getting a laugh in response made my toes curl in my boots.

Half of our crew was outside the truck and the other half was napping as best they could, catching some rest while they were able. How they managed to sleep while the whole truck lurched and bounded over the road, I would never understand.

"Any noticeable flaws in my form?" I asked. Performing my best was obviously high on my priorities and this was as good of a time as any to ask. I was genuinely curious, not to mention any chance to casually talk with Eric was rare.

Eric didn't waver from his watch, continuing to look out over the rising dust clouds. "You blink every time we hit a bump," he commented idly. "Overall, very attentive. Good trigger discipline. Not twitchy. I don't have anything to complain about."

Relief coursed through me. "Thank god," I breathed.

That was when the first mine went off. Our driver screeched to a halt, throwing me off balance and onto the metal grated floor. "Up and at-em, boys and girls!" Eric bellowed. "We've got a live one."

I shoved myself upright, grasping the offered hand of whoever was standing closest to me. Like ants from upturned hills we flooded out from the guard vehicles to regard the scene outside. Dirt and dust billowed, mixed with a noxious smoke. Sigmond's tires spun uselessly, belly-up in a newly created ditch.

My first encounter with the men and women who lived out beyond the wall would be seared into my mind as I watched good Dauntless soldiers form up in rapid lines to combat their assault only to be blasted away by the force of another mine. No, not a mine. A grenade. I gripped my pistol tighter and measured up the situation. I needed to get my hands on a rifle. Then I could do some damage.

Our driver whistled for backup and he surged forward to rally around the main cargo carriers. Those were the targets, had to be. Eric grabbed me by the back of my uniform collar just as a third grenade came careening through the dust clouds. "Pull back to the main group," Eric shouted in my ear, firing off a spray of bullets with his off hand.

I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder to let him know. Orders received. Sigmond's unit would have to make do on their own. Eric laid down suppressing fire to allow our unit to regroup with Reyes'. When he needed to reload I covered with my best sharpshooting. It was impossible to see farther than a few dozen yards with the way the dust continued to whip up.

This week's dry spell was no longer a boon to us at all. The dustup left one of the cargo trucks completely invisible from our vantage point, which seemed to be the goal of the raiders. They didn't care that we were keeping them away from our core units; our maneuvers had failed to keep the cargo vehicles secure.

A small group of raiders broke off from the main contingent, bull rushing the lone cargo truck. We could only watch as they clamored atop the truck, ripping the door open and throwing the driver out onto the ground. I had to give the driver credit. They refused to go down easy, using the force of their departure to roll to their feet and make a break for our other units.

"Stop that truck! Any means necessary!" Morgan bellowed orders from the door of the lead truck. I finally got my hands on a rifle. It was time to fight back.

Our unit broke off, approaching the overrun cargo truck from the far left. Between us and our target stood a solid dozen raiders. They were ragged but determined, wounded animals fighting for any purchase they could manage. Clearly they hadn't anticipated having to deal with such a large force of Dauntless but they were trying regardless.

I would have respected them if they hadn't, you know, tried to kill me with a grenade.

Skirmishes like this were different from training. Shots were lined up within heartbeats and triggers pulled from panic rather than careful consideration of the odds. A woman launched herself at Eric with a machete and I just… _reacted_. Three tight squeezes of the trigger left her bleeding out from the gut, gasping for air. Eric stepped on her wrist and sent two more rounds into her skull, the motion smooth as he continued to march forward.

My own motions were less smooth but no less effective. We broke through the core of their defenses, carving through them like a hot knife through butter. As they turned tail to run for the hills, Eric made the call to gun them down.

Our cargo was still in danger. If they managed to run off and meet up with the stolen truck there would be no telling how long they could fend off our assault. No, the call needed to be made. My rifle ran dry and I moved to sling it on my back, pistol at the ready in my left hand. It was rote, reflex, natural.

My heart beat in my throat and I coughed from the dust that reigned the air, but we pressed on. Only one raider made it to the cargo truck, leaping onto the back. When he looked back I saw terror written across his face. "We can't let that truck go," I growled, more to myself than to anyone in particular.

Eric grunted in agreement, passing me two new clips of ammunition wordlessly. I surveyed the area, trying to figure out what we could to. They couldn't exactly race away in the cargo truck but it still could get a decent enough lead to get to wherever their stronghold was for backup.

One of the guard trucks was racing along the ground, bucking every time it encountered a pothole or a dead raider. "Just like in training?" I said, jutting my chin in its direction.

"Absolutely," Eric growled. He grabbed my hand, pulling me along as we rushed not where the truck was but where it would be. Five, four, three, two, no jump _now_! I grabbed the handle next to the passenger door and held on to Eric's forearm with all my might. He made the jump a moment too late, his feet missing the step.

As soon as I had my arm looped through the handle I could reach down and get Eric's other hand. It hurt like a motherfucker but I hauled him up. We didn't bother with banter about "never mentioning that to anyone." There was too much at stake. We were past words.

Our borrowed ride bounded along, tearing up the ground to catch up with the runaway cargo truck. I didn't wait until I knew we were in range to start taking potshots at the raiders who dotted the rear container like flies. My accuracy wasn't awful, though I marveled at how effective Eric was. He picked the bastards off one by one, each crack of gunfire leading to another body slumping to the dusty ground.

It was only a matter of time until we were joined by the rest of the front guard. Between the three vehicles we cut the raiders off from their destination. They screeched to a halt in a billowing cloud of soil and broken asphalt, sliding from the road into a drainage ditch in a last act of defiance.

Marlene's unit dragged them from the cockpit. There were only two left, a pair of men who chose to fight against their captors to the very end. One got his hands on a pistol - someone was going to get a dressing down by their commanding officer - and shot himself rather than be killed.

Eric swaggered over to the final bloody raider, teeth bared in a parody of a smile. "Who sent you?" he barked. No threats were necessary; the man knew he was done for.

"The devil," the raider snapped in response. I turned away at that point to find my unit once more. It wasn't my place to linger on Eric's investigation when there was other work to be done. The cargo truck needed to be maneuvered out from the ditch and whatever was left of Sigmond's unit needed to be tended to. The guard truck was a lost cause, at least as far as we were able to do. Salvage and move on, those were the orders.

After stripping the comm units and reloading all gear into other trucks, we were allowed a brief respite. Only then did I allow myself to make my way towards Eric and Lieutenant Morgan and the prisoner.

Despite Eric's insistence that he wasn't going to pull rank, the pair were embroiled in a bitter debate. They hadn't been able to get anything from the raider other than a vague reference to the Lakemen which corroborated the slate-blue attire they'd all worn.

"We need to press forward," Eric insisted. "This guy isn't going to tell us anything. And what does it matter? We don't have the numbers to attack one of their fortifications. By the time we do have a proper force, they will have realized their attack failed and move on. Or worse, confront us again in the middle of the road and take out even more lives."

Morgan protested but eventually caved. He stood by as Eric approached the prisoner, chrome pistol pointed firmly at the man's forehead.

I watched Eric execute the man without the barest flinch. As his body collapsed to the ground, I saw Eric's lips move in silent benediction.

Then we pressed on.


	4. FAST PACE

Sterling used to be part of the steel belt. Was the steel belt. Was probably the only "clean" source of steel in the entire region for a good two hundred miles.

Chicago needed Sterling. Sure, our resource reclaimers work hard to preserve our current stockpiles of steel, copper, and gold, but there was nothing quite like freshly minted bars of contaminant-free metals and alloys. They glinted in the sunlight while we swapped cases of medical serums and supplies for dozens of bars.

The city itself paled in comparison to Chicago, at least to me. There was so little glass even in their restored buildings. Everything was dull. Grey. Steel. The people watched us with apprehension, eyeing us much like I used to look at the "hellians" my parents warned were dangerous.

Eric put on a charade, swaggering with full armor and arms set on his back. He stepped over Morgan, demanding the full attention of the city leader who has come to meet us at the trade depot. It was an act, a falsehood to cover for the way his eyes darted constantly to the very limited gates and entryways we had been allowed to pass through.

I wondered when I figured out Eric's tells as I helped Marlene offload yet another set of cases of soothing serum. "Why do you think they want all of this?" She asked me through gritted teeth.

"I'm guessing they don't have the pharmaceutical tech we have?" I offered.

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the economics 101," she drawled. "I meant more specifically why they wanted so much peace serum. I swear half the crates I've unloaded were entirely that."

It was a good question, one that I would puzzle over for the rest of the trade process while I admired how stunning copper could look in the light. I suspected there was a reasonable explanation, that they used it to subdue prisoners while they served out prison sentences. Chicago didn't bother with the prison process any longer, but I did overhear one of my unit members wonder why we didn't bring the captured raider we found here for imprisonment. After all, they were trying to steal resources that were technically Sterling's.

There was also the chance that Sterling used the serum to subdue their population. They didn't have nearly as many people as Chicago; the sheer number of cases could easily have been paced out for months of low dosages.

Still, it didn't matter. They asked for it. We provided. We got base metals to maintain our machining processes. It all worked out. It's not like they asked us if we used the lead and copper to make bullets to kill bad guys or our own people.

I winched, my memory skipping right over the assault on Abnegation. Ouch. Alright, we didn't have a great track record for using our trade goods for "good."

It was dusk by the time we wrapped up. Eric declined the offer to remain within the city limits for the evening; I didn't blame him one single bit. The less we depended upon Sterling, the less likely they could hurt us.

Camp was set up a few miles past city limits and far off the main roadways. Eric called for a tight camp setup but left the micromanaging to Morgan. His way of apologizing for steamrolling the man earlier today. That was why I found him laying down in front of a campfire, eyes closed in quiet contemplation.

I started to backpedal, not having realized he was there when I first walked over. "You can stay," he murmured, eyes still shut. "I'm not sleeping or anything."

"Thanks," I replied quietly. He cracked one eye open. In the dark of the night they looked almost black, the whites just peeking out around the corners.

"Prior," Eric greeted cheerfully, "I didn't realize that was you. You did well today."

I flushed from the compliment. It still felt weird to think about. We sustained five casualties during the attack, with only one resulting in serious injury. Sigmond had taken a serious head injury, much to his unit's distress.

Dwelling on the fight earlier was far from what I wanted to do tonight. I shuffled my feet, still standing by the fire itself rather than broaching the issue of -

"Why don't you sit? You're making me uncomfortable just looking at you." There it was.

I obliged him, sitting down at what felt like an acceptable distance away from one of my faction's leaders. "Thanks," I repeated. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crack of the fire.

"I've never been camping before," I admitted. "Caleb wanted to try camping out in the yard a few times. You know, grab a few sheets, wrap up in blankets, and listen to the noise of the city? I always said no."

It felt like a nice, acceptable story to tell to forget today's tension and worry. "Caleb was… your boyfriend?" Eric asked quietly.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Oh god, the complete opposite. He's my brother," I corrected gently.

Eric hummed. "He still in Abnegation?" The question felt delicate, too carefully crafted to be casual.

"He chose Erudite. Still alive," I answered in as close to the same tone as I could manage. Light. Not at all worried about the minefield that was my heritage.

"Good."

"Yeah." Silence fell again, this time more terse than before. Camp was quieting down. I could hear the mechanical sound of weapons being cleaned and loaded, duffle bags being zipped and unzipped, tent flaps moving in the wind.

Eric sighed and finally pushed himself to an actual sitting position. "This is weird. Can this not be weird? I'd really like that," he said. "Let's try the whole random conversation deal over again."

I had to giggle at that; he was being so brutally straightforward with the barest hint of a smirk lingering in the corner of his mouth. I looked him in the eye and nodded. "Great," Eric said breaking into a legitimate smile. "What do you think of your first trip out of Chicago? Everything you thought would be out here?"

That made me pause. It certainly wasn't a return to the lighthearted topic of camping, that was for sure. My mind was locked on to watching Eric pull the trigger on his captive, snuffing the life out with five pounds of pressure on a slim piece of metal.

"I didn't expect… well, that's a lie," I quickly corrected myself. "I was going to say that I didn't expect the raids. But I did. It was just… a lot more abstract? I wasn't imagining real people. I thought…" My train of thought trailed off as I fought to properly enunciate what I was thinking.

"Thought they'd be more distant?" Eric offered.

I shrugged. That was part of it, but it didn't quite sum up my feelings. In the same motion I shivered. My fingers reached out for the warmth of the fire which now felt miles away. The sun was well and truly gone. Autumn was a cruel mistress.

Eric shifted over, his hip and knee knocking with mine. He didn't comment on it. Neither did I. "I just didn't think they were people. Like you or I. With faces and everything," I tried to explain, gesturing to my own face before laughing. "That sounds so ridiculous. Of course they have faces."

I felt Eric chuckle as his shoulder knocked with mine. "No, I know what you mean. Kind of like when you think about a Faction you don't know too well. When I say Candor do you picture anyone specific or just a blur of people that look like you?" he said.

"A bunch of really blank people," I admitted. Twisting my head to meet his eyes again, I was startled by how close he really was.

I cleared my throat and rubbed my shoulder. "I'm glad that I'm not the only one," I managed to mumble, turning to stare at the campfire instead. Maintaining eye contact with Eric for too long left a flutter in my stomach.

"See, that's why I told you to sit down. You're tenser than a spring," he remarked. Eric nudged me, forcing me to look back at him.

"Want a back massage?" The question, asked in the light of a crackling fire as dusk fell, made me flush.

My eyes went wide and I tried to think of any excuse in the world that wouldn't make me sound like a Stiff. "Oh, that's totally alright. You don't need to offer or anything, really. I just need to stretch and grab some shut-eye," I stammared.

Eric was unconvinced, raising his pierced eyebrow. The dermals glinted dully in the orange light. "Your loss," he mused. Then he tipped his head just so and smirked. "You just want me not to get one in return. 'Cause them's the rules: you get a massage, you give one."

By this point I was pretty sure there was more blood in my skin than in my veins. I felt lightheaded, that smirk from that man messing with my completely exhausted brain. "I just don't know that would be… appropriate?"

"You planning on doing inappropriate things to me?" His voice was low, deep, and utterly enticing. Fingertips grazed my lower back slowly to curl around my waist. Heat radiated from Eric's palm; I'd forgotten how _warm_ men were.

I fidgeted with my hair as I formed my response. "There's not a lot of privacy here," I contested.

"It's just a back massage, Prior," Eric said. He was enjoying this, the back and forth. The rapport between two interested parties. Hell, I wasn't attached to anyone. I could admit that I was interested in Eric.

Finally I acquiesced. I pulled my hair back up into something approximating a ponytail and squared my shoulders. "It kind of defeats the purpose if you're that tense," Eric teased, an echo back to his comment earlier. "Anyone ever tell you that you'd be a bad soldier? You're _terrible_ at taking orders."

I 'accidentally' jabbed my elbow back, hitting him in his side as he moved to sit behind me. "Ass," I snapped.

"I try." Eric moved my hair out of the way with the back of his hand. I shivered again. He started up by my neck, thumbs moving in gentle circles as he moved slowly down my spine. "Let me know if I'm too rough," he added after a moment.

Complaints were the last thing on my mind as he worked my exhausted muscles in a methodical process. I let out a content sigh as he kneaded a knot out of my upper back. "What did you expect?" I asked quietly. "When you first left Chicago, I mean."

He paused, lost in recollection from best I could tell. "I didn't really think about it in the sense that I was going somewhere else. That's the best way I can describe it. It was just an endpoint to my goal - as soon as Initiation was over, I clawed my way onto every position that would get me the chance to command a squad. Anything to prove that I would be successful at having a command, being a Leader," he explained.

"Going out beyond the wall was just… another mission."

I chewed on that for a little while as he started back on my neck and shoulders. Good _lord_ it was heavenly. Fingertips working at every overworked muscle. Warmth radiating through my tactical jacket.

"That makes sense," I murmured. Then I laughed, shaking my head. "Sounds a bit familiar, to be honest."

"What, you didn't leave the city walls just for _excitement_ and _adventure_?"

"Nope, just for the glory of being on a smoothly run unit. So much for that," I grumbled.

Eric's hands stilled, resting on my shoulders. "This op hasn't been too bad. And there's not a lot that you could have done, unless you Divergents are secret operatives for the Lakemen?" His question was far from serious, especially in his mock-whisper. "Do I need to take you out right now for the safety of all Chicago? Don't make me do it! Don't make me choose between thousands of lives and a cute girl between my knees!"

He wasn't exactly wrong. Not about the secret raider agent part but about sitting between his legs. I poked him hard in the knee and twisted my head to look back at him. "You know someone's going to hear you and think that I was actually involved," I said, fighting back laughter.

"My apologies, madame Divergent," Eric said, inclining his head.

I turned to look back at the fire. If I didn't look at him, I could more easily fight the desire to lean back just a bit and rest against his chest. "D'you think we're missing something by being so reclusive?" I asked. Bringing the topic away from my Divergent identity was preferable. Add to that the fact that I was being afforded the chance to have a genuine conversation with Eric - peppered with flirtation and teasing, sure, but still a real conversation - and I had a strong need to keep things from going ass over teakettle by talking about the only hot-button topic for the past six months.

"Do I think we're missing something? Sure, I'm certain there are things that we could stand to benefit by networking more with places like Sterling or even the Milwaukee Federation if they get their heads out of their asses," Eric said. "But do I think those benefits outweigh the dangers that come with those interactions? Eh. I can take it or leave it. I leave those decisions to our oh-so-dedicated Council to make."

Snorting, I rolled my eyes. "Such a dedicated council. They're _totally_ thinking about those different options and fundamental questions." I leaned back. Fuck the indecision. Eric was a comfortable chair. His chin rested just so on top of my head, and I could trace the edges of the inked mazes on his forearms where they stuck out from his jacket cuffs.

"Such betrayal for the noble house of Prior that's sat upon that Council for a whole _twenty years_ ," Eric whispered directly in my ear. Both of us devolved into giggles at that.

He sighed and I felt content sitting there tucked into his arms. I could feel his chest thrum with every word he spoke. "I don't need anything more than Chicago. Fuck Sterling. Fuck the rest of the world."

We sat there for the rest of the night, comfortable and close, until I started drifting off.


	5. COCKED PISTOL

I needed to stretch. Desperately. My neck ached from the weird angle I ended up sleeping at.

Rocks do not make comfortable sleeping surfaces. Also, I hated camping.

Regrettably I had about one and a half square feet of space around me so the best I could manage was to pull my head with one hand to work on the worst of the kinks. Today was a full body armor day. Practicality override any level of comfort. Our return load was far more valuable - to us at least - than our outgoing cargo load from Chicago. At minimum we could deal with losing a hundred cases of med supplies. We could not easily recover from losing several tons of workable steel.

The units had been broken up differently today now that Morgan had to spread out the vehicle-less unit. More people had to be crammed into each personnel carrier. We also swapped one personnel carrier from being on active patrol to join the cargo trucks in the center of the caravan.

I got shifted to a new unit in the front pack, away from Eric. I bit back a complaint when Morgan reassigned me; it was far beyond my place right now to question the already-stressed man. I would be effective in any unit. I would be a good soldier and follow orders.

Marlene was in the same unit, which was a nice benefit. She introduced me to a few of her usual squad-mates and chatted with me when we were both inside the personnel carrier.

I wish I had more time to talk to her, but fate would not be so kind. Not today, at least. A call went out from our front scout that a force of Lakemen were camped out directly in our path. Morgan ordered a detour, taking us from barely maintained roads to pure untamed wilderness. Scrub grass and bushes, though dying from the early frost, caught on wheels and ankles with impunity. The cargo trucks heaved and lurched their way through muddy creeks, engines roaring from the effort.

We operated on red alert, watchful of the treeline, of the next bluff, of anything that could possibly disguise danger.

Naturally, the attack came from the sides. They waited until the front pack of personnel carriers drove through before going once again for our soft underbelly that were the cargo trucks. The central truck tried its best to fend off the insurgent force but there was only so much eight people - some of them the injured from Sigmon's unit - could do. By the time our unit could circle back, we'd lost the carrier and one of the cargo trucks.

Morgan reeled in our scouts and those who had tried to pursue the stolen trucks. This was the time for planning, not for rash reactionism he claimed. I waited for Eric to counter him, cocky and ready to act.

Eric wasn't there. Eric had been on the personnel carrier, stepping in to help the unit with the weakest show of force. My stomach dropped.

"We can't lose ten people, not like this," Marlene snarled. "Harris and Enrique were on that transport. They've got thirty years experience between the both of them." Her fists shook but she refused to back down from her argument.

Others threw in their say, calling Morgan's call to wait to act spineless. "We can't just leave them out here!"

"They'll be dead before dawn tomorrow."

I threw my support behind Marlene. She was fighting against her own lieutenant's orders, affirming my own beliefs that Morgan was dead wrong to wait.

"We need backup from central," he tried to counter. Red-faced from shouting, he was sweating through his clothes. "I'm making the call."

"Fuck your call," someone shouted from the crowd. "And fuck you. This ain't a question of protocol. We go after our own and we bring them home."

A cheer went up. My heart soared. Morgan surveyed the crowd. It had to be clear to him that he wasn't going to convince us to just give up on our own. Faction before blood meant being prepared to sacrifice yourself to save others. _Dauntless_ meant putting the needs of your squad before your own life.

He folded, quickly working to organize an extraction to retrieve our men and our cargo. The coward refused to lead the mission himself. If I questioned his loyalty to Eric before, it was nothing compared to now.

Several of Morgan's own squad stepped up to organize the actual op, leaving Morgan to figure out how to best defend the three remaining cargo trucks with those who were staying behind. We took three of the personnel carriers, leaving him one to scout for trouble. There wouldn't be any; we were going to make sure of that.

This time I was ready. I got my hands on a rifle, a bandoleer of clips, a pair of flash-bang grenades, and a combat knife. Goggles and helmets were passed around to protect against the fragmentation grenades the Lakemen liked to use. They wouldn't help against the blast itself but at least we could avoid getting blinded by shrapnel.

Our drivers were racing down the deep furrows left behind by the fully loaded cargo truck. Tracking was not a problem.

They lead us straight to a shoddily built outpost with its back to what could barely be called a riverbed. Dry and shallow, we would be able to cross it on foot in under a minute. The trucks split up, spreading out to assault the single "building" constructed of salvaged corrugated metal and plywood.

I strong armed my way into heading up my third of the strike team. With Marlene by my side and my rifle at the ready, I signaled for us to start up the riverbed. "Watch for traps and explosives. Eliminate threats in case we need to retreat," I ordered sharply.

My feet crossed one over the other and I followed my own advice, watching exactly where I was stepping every other breath. Again I was thankful for the relative dryness of the terrain. No issues sinking an inch into the ground, no problems dealing with mines covered in splashed mud.

Gunfire started. I bent down, watching faces pop out of widows. The building was two floors high it seemed with Lakemen using the upper floor to try and pick us off one at a time. My body armor ate a shot aimed for my chest, slamming the air from my lungs but failing to pierce the finely woven kevlar.

"Playtime's over! Fire if you've got the shot," I shouted. The rear of my squad laid down covering fire, ducking into the recesses left behind by the dry river to reload. Marlene tapped me on my shoulder twice before hauling herself up into open air. I scanned the lower windows through my scope. Someone tried to be clever, blind firing from under the sill.

I tried not to smirk too much when my burst of shots slammed through the plywood. I watched the gun dropped out of the window, the hand that held it limp.

Marlene made it to the outpost, soon followed by two more men. I joined them, ducking as bullets rained down. Another bruise blossomed on my right shoulder blade as I took another hit. "You see prisoners inside?" I shouted once I was in the clear, my back up against the ramshackle hut.

Heads shook. "Negative. Either they're up top or in the carrier. No sign of a basement in this piece of shit," someone barked back.

I had the choice of rushing inside to meet the raiders head on or trying for the trucks. "We go in," I decided. "Reyes and Van Winter will be coming up shortly, but still watch your six."

Affirmation came up from all sides as Marlene slammed the butt of her rifle into the nearest plywood window. It came crashing down, the weak hinges nothing compared to the unbridled rage of a determined Dauntless soldier. Hoo-rah. I chucked both flash bangs through, crushing my eyes shut even as I turned away.

Three, two, one, cr- _crack_.

"Go!" I bellowed. The reserve of my squad was still under the bluff, keeping the top floor Lakemen busy. It was just us four, no five. Someone came up as we rushed through the opening. My sight left a red stream in the residual smoke from the flashbangs.

Someone groaned and slashed open air, their eyes covered by one hand. A controlled burst eliminated the threat. I kicked the knife away just to be sure. Despite outward appearances, the outpost was more than just a large open space. It was a veritable rat maze, designed to confound forces such as ourselves until you got to the main rooms in the center. Our squad moved in quick, precise motions.

Clearing each segment of the hall took time though, which we had precious little of. Reyes' team joined us at the base of the stairs. I sent Marlene and two of the others up with them. Instinct told me the prisoners wouldn't be up there and I trusted my gut.

Myself and my remaining squadmate - I had no idea of her name - carefully swept our way to the entrance of the building. I spotted someone at the doorway, firing off a shot. It slammed into the frame of the door, missing their head by inches. I growled, switching clips as I watched them charge out of the door, terrified.

My squadmate was covering my back so she didn't have a clear shot. I wasn't about to send her out there alone, either. Once my weapon was back to operational _then_ I pursued, rifle at the ready.

The raider had reached the trucks by then, answering my question when they rolled the passenger door of the personnel carrier open. Eric's unit stared out, tape over their mouths and hands secured behind their backs.

A little bondage never stopped a Dauntless before, though, and I watched with pride as someone kicked the escaping raider in the face. I knew from experience what it was like to get a steel-toed boot to the nose.

My shot wasn't clear now though. If I missed, then I risked shooting one of the men I was trying to save. The raider clutched his face and brandished a pistol. Turning around, he kept the weapon trained on the people behind him. "You come any closer and I start shooting," he barked, blood rushing down his face from his broken nose.

I skidded to a stop. Time slowed as I saw a blonde man with neck tats kick other Dauntless out of the line of fire of the raider. I didn't even register the shot from above that sent gravel stabbing into my shin. Nothing mattered beyond saving those soldiers in the truck.

I didn't wait for Eric to signal me to take the shot. He would, though, even as I stood forty plus yards from my target. I lined up the shot and pulled the trigger before I even saw the laser on the man's chest. Two tight pulls. Two plumes of blood spraying out from the remains of the raider's skull.

I saw Eric, saw the way he cringed in pain. I ran towards the truck, unsheathing my knife. Jumping inside, I slammed the door shut behind me. At this point I was relying entirely on my squad to deal with the raiders in the loft. They would get the job done. I was on to priority number two, ensuring the safety of the prisoners.

My hands shook as I cut the tape from Eric's mouth. He immediately started swearing, though I could hear a few actual words mixed in. "Go, _fuck_ , I'm fine. Hit vest. God _damn_ mother _fucker_ that hurts," he bit out.

Assured, I started cutting the rest of the captives free. If he could complain, Eric was fine. Shots slowed until I heard reports of "all clear!" from inside. Someone knocked on the truck door before rolling it open. I saw Marlene's familiar blond tresses peeking out from under her helmet.

"We all set here? Any injured?" she asked. I shook my head. No one was badly hurt. A few scrapes and more than a few bruises, but nothing dire.

Marlene gritted her teeth. That's how I learned we'd suffered four casualties, two fatal, between the three squads. I scraped myself together and helped with cleanup, sweeping the outpost once more to check if they had brought any of our people's gear or cargo inside.

Then it was just a matter of getting the two bodies and rolling out.


	6. FADE OUT

"You'll get your stripes in no time. With an op like that under you belt they'd be idiots _not_ to give it to you." Eric's words were comforting. Welcome.

They still didn't fully help the bitter taste in my mouth. I stared at the stars, trying to find the source of my numbness. "I keep thinking that I don't deserve them."

Eric turned on his side, propping his head up with a palm. We were alone again by some miracle. People had spent a good chunk of the day congratulating myself and the other two squad leaders for a job well done. Lives were saved, they claimed.

My eyes flicked back to the cargo trucks. One of them was a hearse, carrying two Dauntless whose names would be extolled for bravery without measure as soon as we got back. Eric would have to say the words, name their names, and remind us all how much they sacrificed.

"You're going to have to get used to the aftermath of things. It's tough, but you'll manage," he said softly. "That doesn't mean that you don't deserve to make decisions though. If anything, the fact that you're affected at all means you've got what shitheads like Morgan don't - a goddamn soul."

"But does that qualify me to be a Leader?" I pressed. "I thought being Dauntless would mean that I _wouldn't_ be affected by my decisions. Like that I shouldn't care."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "I'd be concerned frankly if you didn't care about the end results of your calls," he said, amused. "You have to own them. Consider the consequences. Be able to move on. That's what's key."

"Mmm." I looked back up at the sky. What he said made sense, but I wasn't convinced that my decisions had been the right ones. If I had approached differently, would we have been able to take out the top floor shooters? Why didn't we try sharpshooting tactics?

What if I'd missed and shot Eric somewhere besides his body armor?

I felt a hand graze my cheek. "Earth to Tris, come in Tris," Eric murmured.

"People died."

Eric sighed, his breath warm on my face. I noticed idly that it somehow smelled like peppermint. Bastard must have brought his own toothpaste; the reserve supplies were all baking soda-based. "People are always going to die. And you're still up eight lives. There were ten of us there who were not going to make it much longer than a day. Maybe two if they thought they could get a second truck as ransom," he reasoned.

"I'm not saying you have to get over it instantly - it was your first op _and_ your first fatality - but just… take a few days before you write off an extremely promising future," Eric added.

"Extremely promising? You've met me, right?" I drawled.

He tapped me on the nose, that damn grin on his face. "I have indeed had the pleasure. Wouldn't trade it for the world."

I laughed. It felt good, too. "You know, I don't take well to flattery for flattery's sake."

"Damn. There goes my chances of getting in good with the new coworker," Eric said with a chuckle. A thought crossed his mind - I could see it in how his face changed - and he inched closer to me. "You know, I haven't thanked you for saving my life yet."

"No need," I said, flushing when he laid his hand on my hip. "You're more than welcome."

"Then can I ask you for a favor? My shoulder hurts and I never got that massage," he pressed.

I turned to face him, resting my hand on his chest. Eric flinched and I quickly withdrew. "Sorry, forgot about that," I quickly apologized.

He looked me in the eyes and smirked. "You could always kiss it better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Please be sure to check out the other exchange fics! There are four others by some real great authors on Archive. Search "Eris Holiday Fic Exchange 2016" and leave a comment! It'll mean a lot to us all ;3
> 
> Xoxo Happy Holidays!
> 
> The best present would be reviews for one and all~

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not following me on Tumblr, you're missing out on cool things like writing memes, process posts on my current fics, and my Holiday Fic Prompt Contest where you can submit fic ideas for me to write throughout the year!! Check it all out (especially the prompt contest) at [feckyeswriting](http://feckyeswriting.tumblr.com)~!


End file.
